


A Hint of Chocolate.

by bronzeblaze



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst, Baby Teddy Lupin, Dimension Travel, Dork Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy Needs a Hug, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Romance, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Harry Potter Needs a Hug, Harry Potter is a Peverell, M/M, Quote: I Solemnly Swear That I Am Up To No Good (Harry Potter), Slow Burn, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, Thestral Breeder Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:14:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25380700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bronzeblaze/pseuds/bronzeblaze
Summary: Harry Potter, Ex-Auror turned Thestral Breeder believes he has found his niche in life- with his herd(and a baby thestral!), a civil Malfoy and baby Teddy Lupin.When Dumbledore asks him to go fix 'a' world, Harry is tempted to refuse.Except, he can't.
Relationships: Death & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin, Teddy Lupin & Draco Malfoy, Teddy Lupin & Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Teddy Lupin & Harry Potter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 30





	A Hint of Chocolate.

**Author's Note:**

> Before you begin, I'd like to tell you that this is going to be a long, slow burn fanfic. Hopefully, interesting as well. My friend has been a huge help while brainstorming and as a beta.  
> Without further ado, Let's go!

Harry fondly let his eyes roam over the forest, his home after the war, there were no nosy neighbors, no reporters, no-

“Bucky, no!”, Harry exclaimed, too late to do anything as the little thestral tripped over a series of fallen branches. Sighing, he caught up with the hurt foal.

“This is why you don’t separate from the herd, kiddo”, Harry murmured as he waved his wand over the scratches over Bucky’s leg and worked his way up.

A sudden keening sound made Harry inhale sharply, a delicate wing looked broken.

 _Go to the nearest magical healer._ Rosetta’s teaching was burned into his mind, he could never be sure it wasn’t literal.

Harry quickly bundled up Bucky’s left wing, carefully levitating him towards the cottage. Seeing the other herd members chewing meat peacefully, he floo’d over to St. Mungo’s. For once, Harry landed steadily on his feet and he hurriedly walked towards _the open wing-_ the wing for all kinds of magical creatures.

“A level 4 urgency, to mend Buc-a thestral foal’s broken left wing”, Harry muttered at the desk, carefully adjusting Bucky in the air; gently stroking his scaly coat.

“Name?”

“Oh, Bucky.”

“Mr. Bucky, ID please.”, her accent clearly French-wait, what?

“Sorry, Potter.”

“Bucky Potter?”, she looked faintly frustrated, like Harry had intruded on her lunch break. Glancing at his watch, he sighed in relief. The receptionist’s joint sigh made him stir.

Bucky needed a surname? He peeked at the registry- flushing when he realized that she wanted _his_ name.

“Oh no- Harry Potter.”, Harry didn’t bother flattening his hair- a messy tuft all over his head. Mrs. Weasley had called it a _gnome’s burrow_ ; Harry rather liked it.

The receptionist subtly straightened up as he passed over his ID.

“Mr. Potter, Healer Potts is free right now, you can find him in Room 13.”

Harry checked every room’s door while walking; the rooms changed their place daily. He had learnt his lesson when he walked in on a _healer kneading a goat’s arse._ He found Healer Potts easily- a short man nervously dabbing his forehead, his girth occupying most of the room. They must have informed him who his patient was- _the savior’s creature._ This was precisely why Harry had left the ministry.

“Of course. Of course, please bring him here, will you?”, Healer Potts said, patting the rough bed beside him, “- a broken wing, you say? Not to worry, not to worry, it’s an easy fix- hardly a few minutes, yes-yes.”

The Healer Potts’ nimble fingers deftly casted a series of spells, causing Bucky to relax.

“Mr. Potter, I believe this process will take a few minutes and the room is quite cramped, so would you…?”, he gestured towards the ajar door.

Harry agreed, he didn’t mind small places but he _could_ pay by then; Bucky certainly looked comfortable.

Silently closing the door, he hurried towards the desk, rummaging through his pack for a coin pouch, and immediately dashed into a healer’s robes.

“Oh, I’m sorry Healer-”, Harry said, picking up the fallen reports, _hallucinations-memory loss_ read one and another said _plant_ _soul for host._

Harry peeked for a look through his bangs and promptly dropped them again.

“Malfoy?!”

His navy-blue robes clearly identified him as a highly ranked med-wizard. Level 2 to be exact. The fact that Harry remembered _something_ from his medical training pleased Harry.

"Here.” Harry said, shoving the reports into Malfoy’s arms.

“You are a Healer?”, he blurted out- the instant he said them, he was glad his ears couldn’t redden- _of course_ he was a healer. Hadn’t he _just_ thought so?

“Yes-”, he drawled, levitating the reports beside him, “-Head of Dark Curses department, Mental executive.”

His smirk wasn’t the _I’m greater than you, bow to me_ smirk, it was the _I know you didn’t expect this and I know it_ smirk. It had been turned down a notch.

The way Malfoy looked had also changed. The light glinting off his ponytailed hair made it platinum, turning the rest of him paler. His face had lost its sickly look to transform into a fuller face. 

Somehow, he looked lighter and heavier at the same time, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and then placed above his head.

His gaze met Harry’s; his composed aura seemed forced.

Harry had met Malfoy only on one occasion after the war, where both had looked haggard.

“Malfoy, I didn’t think… you’d be here.”

Malfoy glanced behind Harry, taking in the narrow corridor.

“It certainly seems you would have visited sooner or later.”

Harry scowled. Everyone gets injured occasionally, so what?

“Aren’t periodic visits mandatory for foals?”, he smirked, catching Harry’s scowl.

“How do _you_ know that I brought a foal?”

“Well, sooner or later a herd _would_ produce a foal, or all your thestrals also saints?”

“You’re certainly interested in the biology of thestrals, surely lunatics satisfy you enough-”, Harry snarked, walking towards the payment desk, “- _mental executive_?”

When Malfoy gave a surprised puff, he realized he had just called Malfoy’s patients lunatics. Well, he hadn’t expected Malfoy to be a healer.

A tiny voice in his head reminded him no one thought he would be anything but an Auror too.

Harry rolled up his damp sleeves to veil the dirt on them.

By the way Malfoy’s gaze lingered on his cuffs, it had not escaped his notice.

“Are you following me?”, Harry asked, when Malfoy made no sign to change his direction.

“Yes, Potter, at the end of my shift I am following you to what? Observe your gait?”, Malfoy said, tilting his chin slightly.

Harry flushed. “What are you doing then?”

“The same thing as you, going to the desk.”

“ _Why_ are you going to the desk then?”, Harry asked.

“Hmm… curious, aren’t you?”, Malfoy said.

Peculiarly, their replies had an almost teasing lilt.

Harry lapsed into silence, living in a forest meant silences had grown on him.

Finally, Malfoy sighed.

“Submitting these reports.” he said, waving his lithe fingers towards the floating reports.

Harry, who had been rummaging for galleons throughout the conversation, finally found about 10 of them, which he considered sufficient.

“Anyway, you said it’s the end of your shift, what do you then?”, he asked, anxious to alter the topic.

“Why Potter, asking for a coffee? You just had to ask.” Malfoy said, skillfully deflecting the question.

Maybe it was the way Malfoy had sounded beneath all the drama, the way Harry had when he was on his path to become an Auror, or the way Malfoy looked, so professionally put together that it seemed like an edited photograph; or it was nothing other than a desire to be with someone not worshipping his ground or seducing him it made Harry blurt out, “If it’s up for offer, then we _can_ go for a coffee.”

The split-second shock on Malfoy’s face was worth the certain future embarrassment.

Malfoy’s surprised eyes locked Harry in his place, who, for some reason had become invested in his reply.

He gave an uncertain jerk of his head, quickly covering it up with a strong nod.

“Why, Potter, a date it is then.”, Malfoy began stacking his reports, “But, the venue shall be mine.”

“A date-?”, Harry asked, fiddling with the galleons, “between friends, of course.”

Malfoy’s lips curved. “Obviously, Potter. And your-”, Malfoy’s eyes raked over Harry’s messy frame and then he spoke the way one would while trying out a new language, “- _outfit_ will do.”

Harry relaxed, “What, no _classe supérieure_ restaurant?”

“With your reputation?”, Malfoy drawled, apparently back to his superior lilt, “Merlin, no.”

Harry tensed, yet another talk about his _reputation._ Why he had thought this would be any different, he had no idea. Disappoint curled in his gut.

“I thought you of all people would want to utilize it?”

Malfoy spared him a glance while maneuvering those reports onto the desk.

“Potter, do tell me how I am supposed to use your anti-social status. You should know, not all of us want to pass as hermits.”

Oh. _Oh._

“It’s actually wonderful to live in my home-”, he huffed, loosening up “-it isn’t swarmed by reporters and stalkers.”

“Malfoy, when are we going?”, Harry didn’t bother asking their venue, he would see it soon enough.

Malfoy was so silent while he waited for Harry to pay that he began thinking this was all a hoax.

Malfoy languidly smirked, “Now.”

Bucky, who had come running, ditching the portly healer chasing after him, snorted.

* * *

_A whole of three months later…_

Harry impatiently tapped his foot, waiting for Malfoy at the Leaky Cauldron. Their bi-weekly outings had begun three months ago, with them alternately choosing destinations. It was Harry’s turn today, and Malfoy hadn’t come yet. Harry took a large swig of his butterbeer, never ceasing his foot-tapping. Harry caught a wisp of blond and hurriedly gulped down his drink.

“What took you so long? I’m sure your hair takes only about two hours to set!”

Malfoy looked hassled. His carefully done hair had a few strands rebelling.

“Potter, all of us do not have feeding animals as our job.” Malfoy sniffed, “Also, Yaxley is a bastard.”

Harry hummed. It had been a recurring trend in all of their outings. Malfoy would always come haughtily but would look like he desperately needed the break. Except the last time, where Malfoy had been excited when they had popped into Wizarding France for _shopping._ Harry shuddered, causing Malfoy to look at him oddly.

“Are you cold? In June?”

Harry waved him off. “Let’s get going. Also, can you wear something more muggle?

Malfoy sighed, transfiguring his clothes. Along with having fun, somewhere along the lines this had become slightly educational. Harry would show muggle or natural stuff, Malfoy- wizarding.

Harry loved this. They had once seen a movie, an experience for both Harry and Malfoy.

Looking at Malfoy’s casual denim clothes, he swallowed. Malfoy sure learnt quickly.

“Of course, I do.”

Harry gave another start. Malfoy’s smirk exposed he knew exactly what Harry thought.

“Okay, let’s go! We are going to- “, Harry bounced on his heels, feeling tendrils of childish excitement, “-an amusement park!”

“An…amusement park? It deals with your desires, that isn’t saint-like, Potter.”

“Not like that!”, Harry smirked, “for your _desires_ that would require slimy dungeons, and this is a park.”

Malfoy laughed; the sight of which Harry didn’t startle anymore. It was still enthralling to look at- the way Malfoy’s tension bled from his form, the slightly crooked lip tilt just before laughing that distinguished it from a falsified laugh.

“So, where are we apparating to?”

Harry gave a sly smirk, feeling inklings of triumph at knowing more than him for once. “Who said anything about apparating?”

* * *

“Potter! Are all muggles insane?", Malfoy barked, still shaking from his trip in a _taxi._

Harry wondered if the slightly queasy look meant that Malfoy didn’t enjoy the ride. “But the _Knight Bus_ is way worse.”

“Does the _amusement park-”,_ Malfoy spoke slowly, the way a European would try out Japanese words, “-have such rides?”

Harry cagily nodded; did he not like it?

“Why are we waiting then?”, Malfoy grabbed his elbow, hauling him away from the road, “I thought you said _Let’s go.”_

“Malfoy…”

“Come on, Potter, you didn’t seriously think a taxi would frighten me?”, Malfoy kept walking confidently.

“Malfoy…”

“I mean, I play Quidditch! Even a blast-ended skewer can do this.” Malfoy sniffed.

“Malfoy!”, Harry finally exclaimed. “We are walking in the _wrong_ direction.”

Malfoy let go of his elbow, delicately straightened his shirt and finally, _finally_ looked at Harry.

“Why didn’t you say so?”-like this was all his fault.

In the next fifteen minutes, they found themselves standing before a massive rollercoaster. Every time Harry saw him, he had to hand it to Malfoy. For someone unaccustomed to Muggles, Malfoy sure fit in properly. He had even chatted up an official, leading them to an express queue.

What had he even said? _I am a wizard, if you don’t allow me in quick, I’ll torture you?_

Harry being Harry, asked Malfoy.

“I am a Slytherin-”, Malfoy looked amused, “– I _always_ get my way.”

Harry snorted, “You probably became a ferret, you were a cute one anyway.”

Malfoy coloured.

Whooping their way through the whole ride, Malfoy’s shriek assured him the park had been a good choice. The _Cup & Saucer_ saw them in it twice, thoroughly enjoying themselves both times. And the Bull Ride! Having ridden a dragon, Harry certainly lasted longer than Malfoy. Malfoy huffed but it was clear he had enjoyed it. While heading towards the food court, Malfoy became intrigued by the pink fluffs of candy floss, he had never had it either. In the end, they bought a single huge stick of candy floss. (they had asked for two, but the vendor had given them a knowing smile and a single stick.)

“Maybe they’re meant to be eaten like this-,” Malfoy said, delicate fingers tearing portions of the floss, his sweet tooth clearly shining through, “-this is certainly good, we should introduce it to the wizarding world.”

Malfoy looked _carefree_. With his windswept hair, rumpled clothes, a smidge of pink floss over his cheek and a smile freer than the ones he wore during work, Harry was sure- had the world gazed this way now, they would have found a Malfoy they couldn’t help but love. Carefully tucking away his thoughts of a haggard Malfoy he saw after work; He knew, with a certainty that had roots in his gut- _this_ was the actual Malfoy, forcefully locked away-not meant for the world to see. Joy inexplicably came bubbling up- maybe it had been the wonderful day, or the delicious taste of freedom he never grew old of, or the candy floss had just been drugged- Harry let out a snort, that grew into a chuckle-

At Malfoy’s odd look, Harry began laughing yet again until it descended to the both of them gasping and clutching their sides over a huge stick of candy floss.

Taking the most elaborate route to the Leaky Cauldron on a taxi ( _Potter, just one last time!)_ , Harry apparated them both to Seashell Cabin’s edge- which earned him another odd look from Malfoy.

“What?”

“This is your house.”

“So?”

Malfoy sighed. “This was fun.”

Harry smiled softly. “Yeah, hard for you to beat, huh?”

It was testament to the statement’s truth when Malfoy merely scoffed. Just then an owl came swooping in, pecking at Harry’s outstretched finger. Harry glanced at Malfoy and turned it over, the wards around his home would protect him anyway.

Harry swallowed, “It is from Dumbledore _.”_

Malfoy’s eyebrow shot up, “Is it?”

“But, Dumbledore’s dead.”

The tightening of his lips made Harry wish he hadn’t been so blunt.

Malfoy gave a delicate wave and apparated away.

All alone, he stared at the thin envelope with Dumbledore’s purple seal marked on it. Harry squinted at the writing and smiled.

It was a letter from Hogwarts.

* * *

_A mere week later…_

Done feeding and warding his herd from the fallen branches, Harry ran back to his cabin-hazardously tucking his shirt and pushing his hair down. He stared at his empty table, aghast. Looking around his cozy little cabin, he frantically began searching for the letter- which had consequently become Bucky’s fodder.

“Bucky! No! Letters are _not_ meant to be eaten. Give it here, kiddo-you’re not even a herbivore!”

Bucky slowly let go of the soggy letter, staring mournfully at it. Sighing, he attempted to decipher the letter-something about a meeting at 9.30? Harry couldn’t remember. He had received the letter a week ago.

“Here Buck, it’s useless anyway”, Harry stared at Bucky as he chewed McGonagall’s name off. _McGonagall._

He cursed. 9.00am. The meeting with McGonagall at Hogwarts was at 9.00am. After a last glance at his herd, Harry fell on his arse-dizzy and covered in soot, barely on time. At least the Hogwarts floo had a soft rug. Resisting the urge to jump up and throw a spell, Harry gazed up at McGonagall- decked in deep blue robes, her face held thinly veiled amusement.

“Mr. Potter, I assume you know how to transfigure a chair. Learning how to floo would help as well.”

Harry laughed and tucked his wand, grateful that she hadn’t pointed it out.

“Professor, I think it’s rather unfair that points can be docked for being late but points aren’t awarded for punctuality.”

She gestured towards a rickety chair, and he took it.

“Punctuality is expected, not rewarded.”, she laced her fingers in much the same way Dumbledore used to, “Also, you may call me by name now, you’re no longer a student here.”

Harry’s eyes wandered over the room; the lack of trinkets was apparent. All the portraits, bar Snape’s (which was always empty when Harry visited), looked asleep. Harry knew them well enough to not believe their act. A lady winked at him.

“Uh, Professor, why did you call me here?”, Harry stared at her. The longer he thought, the more unusual the visit became. He had only visited Hogwarts twice after the war; Once, to repair it and the second time was to meet the thestral herd of Hogwarts.

“As you would recall, I didn’t.” What made all headmasters sound so cryptic?

“But, Professor, I received a letter from Hogwarts- you wanted to meet today at 9, it even had a seal-Dumble- _oh._ ”, Harry spun around to face Dumbledore’s portrait. Dumbledore was still asleep and he looked _old._ His limbs looked frail; his beard just accented that statement. The strong aura around him didn’t exist anymore.

“Professor, why aren’t lemon drops painted on his portrait?”, Harry kept his eyes on Dumbledore’s portrait, smiling at how his eyes snapped open at _lemon drops._

“A great question, my boy”, Dumbledore looked for in the world like he had been wide awake, “one with deeper implications.”

“As for why I called you here-”, he continued, once again resembling his age, “-it is time that I let go of my final secret. One arguably graver than the war.”

McGonagall frowned, exiting the room at Dumbledore’s meaningful glance. He made himself comfortable on the rickety chair, his gut told him this wasn’t something trivial.

“Harry, my boy, you know the Magical Universe theory?”

“Uh, some-not much-”, Wracking his brain, all Harry knew was that around sixth year Hermione had obsessed over it. “-Something about there being infinite universes?”

“Quite correct-”, Dumbledore’s piercing eyes made him uneasy, “-while many consider it to be a hypothesis, it is in fact just that- _fact._ ”

“Huh?”

“You see, there exist many, many different dimensions. I’m from one of them, you are from one as well–”, Dumbledore sighed, “—it is just that, we belong to different dimensions.”

Was Dumbledore being cryptic _on purpose?_

“You’re saying-”, Harry’s frustration apparent, “that I’m from a different dimension?”

“ _No_ , _I’m_ from a different dimension. And I ask you not to interrupt me. I’ll certainly answer all your questions.”

Harry coloured.

“Firstly, what is a dimension? In layman’s terms, you could call it ‘a world’- for example- In this world, Voldemort decided to create Horcruxes-an act that involves a lot of magic. In my world, the world I come from- Voldemort chose to do something different. This decision- that involved a lot of magic, created a new world. Every such important decision based on magic creates a new world. The Voldemort there stole magic.”

“ _stole_ magic?”

“Yes, my boy –”, his tone held a deep anger, the like he had never heard before, “—He stole magic, wishing to hoard all of it for himself, and the victims- some died and some became squibs.”

Harry felt sick. The best thing, he felt, in this world was magic.

“How did you defeat him?”

“We didn’t.” Impossibly, Dumbledore looked even more fatigued. “The Order dissolved. And in the end, everyone died.”

“ _Everyone?_ ”, Harry whispered, horrified.

“It wasn’t a battle; it was a massacre. Voldemort became too powerful to defeat.”

Harry frowned. “Why didn’t he come after you? Wouldn’t he want your power too?”

For the very first time Harry had seen him, Dumbledore’s eyes lost focus as if he were reliving a memory.

“Yes, but he wanted me to see his power first. I was the last person alive.”

Harry couldn’t move. There were too many pieces missing.

“Voldemort didn’t expect one thing though. A person isn’t _meant_ to hold so much magic. In our final duel, raw magic tore up the place. I used this raw magic to place a wish. I wished for a solution, rather I wished for a person who could solve the problem. Remember Harry, the core of magic is intent.”

“So, your wish came true?”, Harry couldn’t imagine how it must have been. The ordinary duel between Voldemort and Dumbledore had been it _intense_. But a Voldemort who was infinitely more powerful?

Dumbledore sighed. “In my desperation, I wasn’t clear enough. I got pushed through time and space. And, I ended up in this universe, where ‘Dumbledore’ was already dead.”

Harry abruptly jarred back to reality; he could freely admit most of what he said flew over Harry’s head. Harry found himself pacing over the questions that came bubbling up.

“So, you’re from a different world? And this world’s Dumbledore was already dead before you came?”

A single nod confirmed all the questions.

“In your world, Voldemort _won_? And everybody died?”

Another nod.

“So, you came here searching for the person who can help you win?”

Yet another nod. 

“ _And?_ Did you find him, her?”, he asked harshly.

“Harry, my boy, I did find him.”

“So, your world is fine now? Then, why are you telling me all this?”, Harry couldn’t grasp his head around it.

“There is much more to this.”, Dumbledore peered at him, “-and I, yet again, ask you not to interrupt me.”

Harry sank back into his rickety chair. But not before he asked another question- “ _How_ did this world’s Dumbledore die?”

Looking very much like he had drunk Voldemort’s potion for the horcrux again, Dumbledore began a story that had a predestined tragic end.

“When I arrived in your world, I found myself in Grindelwald’s era- apparently, Grindelwald had already killed Dumbledore here. So, I took his place and defeated Grindelwald. But, during Grindelwald’s era- I knew the person I needed wasn’t born yet, so I waited.”

“This person, all I had was his magical signature-I took the dead Dumbledore’s place and waited for decades, roaming the world and searching for the signature- all in vain.”

Dumbledore was stuck in this world? For how long? Had he defeated Voldemort already?

“After decades, I began losing hope- until I sensed the signature yet again, when I held you as a baby, sleeping peacefully in my arms.”

“Me? _I_ am the person you wanted?”, he stared at Dumbledore, waiting for him to go _no, my boy, April Fool’s Day!_

But Dumbledore just gravely nodded. “I met you, but I knew you wouldn’t come till Voldemort was defeated. You were needed here. By then-well, I died."

“So, your world isn’t alright?”, he said slowly, “is your world still…alive?”

Dumbledore’s expression cleared, evidently bringing himself back to the present.

“The portal that brought me here still remains open, and if you choose to go, you will, like me, end up in the past. Since you’ll be in the past, you wouldn’t have to correct much.”

“How are so sure it’s me? Why not Hermione?”, Harry couldn’t help but shout, “You searched the whole world and think it’s _me_.”

“My boy—,” he spoke slowly, his eyes flashing, “—the only clue I had was _your_ magical signature. As to why you are the one- I do not know."

Harry abruptly deflated- he couldn’t imagine it, waiting for decades to save the world, while knowing everyone was dead? With a magical signature being the only thing to go on?

“Why wait so long? Why didn’t you tell me when the war was over?”

Dumbledore slowly laced his fingers, “Harry, I felt that you should take the time to heal and-”, he swallowed, “- only _you_ can go; you can _never_ come back _._ ”

Harry remained silent, waiting for the implications to sink in.

He stumbled towards the door, clumsily closing it. He ran past McGonagall- who had silently left somewhere in the beginning of their conversation. _Hogwarts_ , which had always welcomed him now felt suffocating. By the time Harry became aware of what he was doing, he found himself panting in the school’s broom shed. He picked up an old school broom and kicked off; letting the wind rushing through his body calm him. All of his messy, turbulent, overwhelming thoughts were too tangled to sort out.

Anger bubbled up in him. At Voldemort, at Dumbledore, at himself for thinking the peace would last, especially for him. It was all so unfair. He had finally, finally, settled his life. Had even died for peace, was it never going to be enough? This was a way of death too, wasn’t it? Leave everyone you know- No herd, no Weasleys and Hermione, no Malfoy and no Teddy. The kid had only him and his grandmother. Harry couldn’t even be a proper godfather.

Malfoy- the name left a weird taste in his mouth.

 _Get a grip, Harry!_ He couldn’t.

He thought about refusing Dumbledore, never coming back to Hogwarts; just living his own life in his cosy little cabin.

He knew, deep down, he couldn’t do that to Dumbledore. Dumbledore had helped his world for a small hope, had even _died_ for a single chance.

Seeing the sunset jerked Harry back to reality, he felt as though he had flown past every single thought he had- the sweat sticking to his shirt and hair, and the slight shudder of an old _Cleansweep_ attested that.

He finally landed, walking back to the Headmaster’s room. On his journey, two final questions popped into his mind.

Opening the door, he snickered-McGonagall was chewing Dumbledore’s head off. He guiltily felt dark satisfaction pool in his gut at Dumbledore’s plight. His arrival silenced both of them.

“Mr. Potter- you don’t have to-”, McGonagall briskly began.

“Is my world really similar? How far into the past will I go?”, he sheepishly smiled at McGonagall, who looked like she had a swallowed a lemon.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. “Except for Voldemort, our worlds are really similar. Just a few minor changes. For one, Teddy would never have been born.”

Huh?

“As for the past, you’ll most likely end up in 1976- your parents’ sixth year.”

**Author's Note:**

> Me(after I first posted it): This is great.  
> Also Me (when I finally check my account again): Wow, such garbage.  
> lol, please do tell me what totally sucks and what doesn't fully suck.  
> Kudos,  
> bronzeblaze.


End file.
